Talking to a dead man
by BBVX
Summary: America doesn't negotiate with terrorists. Saying goodbye is always hard. It's even harder when the person your talking to can say it back. Money, politics, humanity and the value of life are always thrown into the equation. It's just a shame nobody ever seems to find the right answer until it's too little too late.
1. Chapter 1

**19 HOURS, 27 MINUTES**

We're not gonna make it. That's it. I've finally faced it. I'm gonna die in this damn crate buried God knows where and Mike's gonna die with me. Because I was too stupid to listen for once and things just…

What does it even matter? Thinkin' about things aint gonna change the fact that they happened. I made a bad decision, and now we're both gonna die for it, despite what the guy on the damn cell would have me believe. Fucking idiot. Does he really think I don't know what he's tryin' ta do?

"_Raphael? Raphael are you there?"_

I haven't even got the energy to hold the phone anymore. So I just laid it on its side real gentle-like and listened to it. Can't let it touch my ear without it getting' sticky, and if it's covered in blood I can't see the numbers.

"Yeah. Still here."

My voice is soft. Mikey's finally fallen asleep next ta me and I don't wanna wake him. He kinda broke down when the video came through. I didn't even mean for him ta see it, but we're kinda locked close together down here. Kinda like sardines. There's no way I could 'av stop him seein' it.

"_Good. Raphael, I need you to stay calm. We are going to get you out of this."_

I smile up at the wood of the coffin we're boxed in. He really thinks I'm an idiot.

"You keep saying that but we're still here."

_"No, we're close now. We're tracking the signal to the number you gave us and we're homing in on them anytime now. We're coming for you. Just hold on."_

Just hold on…to what? Sand covers the bottom of the box we're trapped in and the sides have been sandpapered down. I've tried liftin' the damn thing already. Tried forcin' my way out. It didn't shift though. Didn't even budge an inch. I reach down and blindly search about. More sand. My lighter. The torch with the dying batteries and the small flask of water. All of these find my fingers before I find what I'm looking for.

Mikey's hand is cold and clammy, covered in sweat and the crusted remnants of blood. I hold on tight to the cuff of his sleeve. I'm pretty sure my knuckles have turned white, but with no light I'll never know. Mike shifts as much as he can when locked in a crate however many feet below ground, but still stays asleep. Heh, damn knucklehead, he really can sleep through anything. With a bit of luck he'll sleep right through this whole damn nightmare.

I hold on tighter and he mumbles something. I don't catch it. I take a deep breath and struggle to let it out. The air is so thin it feels like swallowing hot ashes.

"_Talk to me, Raphael. Let me know you're still there."_

"It's a bitch, yanno that?"

Silence holds over the phone and drags us through the seconds. Then there's a crackle and the guy's smooth voice is back. Bet that's an important factor when goin' for a job like his, yanno. I mean, you've gotta have the right voice. It's like pilots, I suppose. Gotta have a soothin' voice for that too. It won't help the situation any if the plane's goin' down and the pilot is screaming his head off like a damn chicken in the yard.

"_What's that, Raphael?"_

I swallow hard and hold onto Mikey, my little brother. My eyes start to burn and the tears roll down my face. Flat on my back, they roll sideways and into my matted hair. I'm glad Mike's asleep. I never want him to see me like this.

"_Raphael?"_

"Knowing." The word escapes me and the blue light of the phone manages to illuminate the top of the crate. The numbers etched there are meaningless. There has to be a hundred little numbers. Not one of them could help us.

_"Knowing?"_

He's confused. I don't see the point in wiping away the dried up tears. Mike's asleep, and they'll be long dried by the time he wakes up. "Knowing you're gonna die….It's a bitch."

"_You're not going to die, Raphael. We're going to get you and Michelangelo out of there as soon as possible."_

"But ya won't give 'em the money."

"_Raphael, if I could I would. If I had six million dollars in a case I'd spend it in a heartbeat. But I don't and American policy doesn't-"_

_"_Negotiate with terrorists." My words are sour but honest.

"_I'm sorry."_

"Does it feel weird?"

"_Does what feel weird?"_

"Talking to a dead man…"

"_Raphael, we are coming to get you out. Listen, I've just received a call from the leader of the operations in Africa. He's got a lock on your captor's location. Let me speak to him, and you call me back in ten minutes. Okay?"_

"Okay."

_"If anything happens, even before ten minutes, you call me straight away. Call this number and don't do anything without informing me first. Understood?"_

Typical. I'm buried underground after bein' kidnapped and I'm still takin' orders. Biting my tongue, I don't even give him an answer. I hung up. The phone's battery charge drops from three bars to two.

Squinting at the bright blue screen, I struggle ta see for a minute. I sweep my hand across my brow, ignoring the ache that comes with it, and start to dial the first number I can think of. I've called them all already, but I wanna hear them again. All of them. Just in case it's the last time.

The phone rings on for what feels like forever before it's finally picked up. Funny how two rings can feel like a lifetime in the dark.

"_Raph?! Raph, that you?!"_

I smile again up at the wood, sniff hard and swallow. "Yeah. Yeah, it's me Donny-"

"_Thank God! When you was cut off we couldn't reach you again."_

"Yeah, sorry about that." I sound almost normal, and it's frightening. "Hey, Donny, I wanna ask ya somethin'-"

"_Is Mikey with you? Is he okay? Are you okay?"_

"Donny, we're both alive." The statement doesn't satisfy him, but he doesn't push it. Alive is always a poor substitute for okay. "I wanna ask ya, how many people make it outta things like this? Like, seriously, don't bullshit me, Don. Give me the number."

There's a sharp inhale of breath on the other end of the phone and he stays silent for a long time.

"I gotta know, Don. I gotta know what I'm lookin' at here bro."

_"It's not…it's not good, Raph. It's not a good number."_

My head bangs back against the wood. "I didn't think it would be-"

_"But we're all looking for you! Leo's already got a flight out there with Casey and Leatherhead and me and April are working from base with Master Splinter. We're going to find you, Raph! Both you and Mikey. Just a little bit longer and we'll have you out. I promise!"_

I laugh openly out to the wood, but it's more breathy than heartfelt. "Who you tryin' to persuade here, Donny-boy? Me or you?"

"_What?"_

"You sound just like the guy from the US Embassy. Donny, it's been nineteen and a half hours. If you were going to find us, why haven't you done it yet?"

_"…These things, they just take time, Raph." _

_"_Don't exactly have a lot of that down here, Donny. But thanks, anyway."

"_Raph, why are you talking like this? What the hell has gotten into you?!"_

He's angry, which means he's upset. I don't wanna make Donny cry, so I make up some shit and put on a fake smile like I've been doin' for Mikey for this long night in Hell.

"You're right, Don. Gotta think optimistic, right?"

I think he knows I'm bluffing.

_"Raph, promise you won't give up. Right here, right now, promise me. Promise that you believe we're gonna get you out of this mess."_

"Donny-"

"_Raphael Hamato, promise me that you believe you're going to get out of this! We're going to save you!"_

"I don't doubt it. If there's anybody in the whole wide world who could, I know it's you Don."

His voice breaks, and I feel like an absolute prick for making my little brother cry.

_"Raph, come on! You're the strongest out of all of us! You can do this! We can do this! We're going to find you!"_

He's begging. Something I've never heard Donny do before. Mikey begs me not to beat him up after a prank, Leo begs me not to cause trouble, April begs me not to trash her apartment and Casey begs me to join him out around town…but Donny doesn't beg. Donny never begs. Guess that's why I choked up and gave him what he wanted.

"Okay Donny, I promise. I promise to hang on for as long as possible. Okay?"

"_And Mikey?"_

"Sleepin', Don." I glanced over to his sleeping form, just to check he was still there and that I wasn't alone. Even though I'm holdin' onto his sleeve, it doesn't feel real. None of it feels real.

_"Good,"_ he laughs and it's filled with nerves, "_when he wakes up we'll be digging him out. Digging both of you out."_

I nod before I realise he can't see me. "Don, I gotta go. I'm gonna make a few more calls."

"_Okay, yeah, don't worry Raph, we're almost there. We'll have you out soon enough, I promise."_

I almost believe him.

"_I love you, bro. Don't give up." _

And he hung up. I whisper my answer to the wood and hope he can hear me. Then I turn my attention to the next number in my head. No sooner have I hit the call button and the ringing tone's on than it's answered.

"_Yo, Raph? That you bro?"_

For a moment I'm stunned into silence. Mikey moves a few centimetres and kicks out with his left foot, hitting the bottom of the wooden crate.

"Casey? What the hell are you doin' with Leo's cell?"

_"Oh, real nice, Raph. What, ya not happy ta hear from me or somethin'?"_

"Case, I really don't have time for this. Where's Leo?"

"_Er…"_

He sounds nervous. The word drags on forever before he finally speaks again.

_"Leo's a bit busy at the min, bro. Him and leatherhead doin' a bit of interrogation on some suspects."_

I blink up at the wood stupidly. "You're in Africa already?" A smile hits me and I laugh into the phone. "How?"

"_Erm, well, Leo's probs gonna get fired, but we, yanno, we sorta 'borrowed' one of the military's jets."_

"You stole a military jet?" It sounds stupider out loud than it does in my head, but it also sounds more real. As if I'm not imagining things.

The sound of bullets booming through the distance made its way across the connection and Casey yelled something colourful out. More swearing was said and another bullet rang out before he finally spoke to me again.

"_Okay, scratch that, Leo's definitely fired. And Leatherhead's goin' down as his accomplice."_

"What just happened?!"

_"Nothin-"_

"Casey, I just heard gunshots!"

_"Friendly fire, bro. Nowt you should be concerned abou-_

_"Casey, give me the phone."_

_"Don't ya think ya should wash your hands first?"_

_"Casey, either give me the phone or I'll take it from you. Which would you prefer?"_

There's the sound of shuffling and now there's just Leo's voice on the phone. He's breathin' heavy, and I wonder if he feels the same ashes in his chest that I'm getting' from the limited oxygen.

"_Raph?"_

"Bro, what the-"

"_Raph, I need you to think very carefully for a minute, okay? Calm down, and think hard." _

He's saying this to me whilst hyperventilating down the phone. Since when did Leo turn into a hypocrite?

"Leo, what-"

"_When you were first taken there were six of you. How many men ambushed you?"_

I didn't need to think. I had memorized every covered face. "Fourteen."

_"How many trucks?"_

"Two armoured vehicles."

"_Where were you exactly when you were taken?"_

"We'd just docked. We didn't even get chance to get off the boat. Leo, what's all this for? What's going o-"

"_Are you warm?"_

"What?! What the hell kinda question is that? Leo, I'm underground!"

"_Raphael, are you warm? Is the wood of the crate wet? How much oxygen is there and is there any wildlife about?"_

"Wildlife? What wildlife?"

He sighs on the other end of the phone and I can hear the crunch of pebbles under his boots.

_"Insects. Arachnids. Snakes. Scorpions. Lizards. Is there any animal in there with you?"_

"You mean besides Mikey?"

I smiled slightly but Leo didn't find it funny.

"_Raphael_!"

"No, Leo! When they put us in here it wasn't to start up a bastard petting zoo!"

"_Okay, the crate, is it wet?"_

I ran my fingers along the wood in the darkness. It was dry like smooth sanded timber. "No, it's dry as a bone."

"_Right."_

There's the sound of a slamming door through the connection and Mike shuffles next to me. I hold on tighter and what little life I have in me dies beside him. My voice is soft when I next speak. I don't want Mikey hearing me.

"Leo, what's goin' on? The truth."

There's a long pause, and I can just picture Leo thinkin' hard about whether or not to trust me with the info on my own life. Typical.

"_You want me to be honest?"_

"Yes."

"_Don managed to trace the connection of the number you gave him. It led to Africa's northern coast. Pirates, terrorists, haters, call 'em what you want, they've got you. I took the military helicopter and flew me, Leatherhead and Casey out here with a few others from my platoon. I've been talking to the US Embassy all the while we were making our way down here. The connection was split into two key areas. These people aren't armatures, Raphael. They mean business. They've covered their tracks well and it's not looking good."_

He's being brutally honest and I almost wish I'd never asked. He could have at least sugar-coated it a little bit for me. This is just too hard to swallow. "How long till you find us?"

_"… … …"_

"How long, Leo?"

_"I don't know, Raph. Nobody's speaking and everything's complicated…. I don't know how long."_

My heart sank like the Titanic. I'm desperate, so I'm clinging to hope.

"What about the US Embassy? They said-"

"_They're babysitting, Raph. It's their job."_

"What are you sayin', Leo?"

Leo stops and chokes. I think that's the first time I've ever heard it from him. "You…you still want me to be honest?"

I steal myself for a moment. I want to hold onto Donny's prospect that this could all go well, but I don't wanna believe something that won't happen. Making up my mind, I double checked ta make sure Mikey was asleep. "Give it to me straight, Leo."

He stops and when his voice comes back I can barely hear him.

_"Start making your calls, Raph. It's time."_

I freeze, tense up, hold onto Mikey tighter and shut my eyes hard. My throat's dry and there's no way I can speak, but I manage. "There's no way at all…? No chance…? No-"

"_Raph, listen to me. I am going to find you. I just… I'm not sure how long it's going to take."_

He means he doesn't know if he'll be opening our coffin to find bodies or bones. I knew it was hopeless.

The shuffling next to me increases and Mikey groans. He starts to get up but bangs his head and winces. Then he looks about, catches sight of our situation, and his head smashes back against the wood. I flinch to hear it, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Raph, how come we're not outta here yet? I thought Donny said it wouldn't be much longer?"

He's looking at me, one brow furrowed and eyes lit with confusion by the light of the phone screen. I put up a fake smile and laugh. Hollow and dry.

"It's not like a damn airplane, Mike. You can't just fall asleep and wake up when you're there."

He shrugs and catches sight of the phone in my hands. It sparks interest in him and suddenly he's nudging himself closer to me. I don't think he's noticed I'm holding onto him.

"Who's on the phone? The Embassy guy?"

"No, it's Leo."

"Leo?" His eyes light up and he stretched his free arm across us both. "Lemme speak to him!"

I push his hand away gently. "One sec, Mike. We was talkin'."

He pouts and I place the phone back against my ear that's not a mangled mess.

"Hey, Leo, Mike wants to speak ta ya. Ya think maybe…"

"_I'm not gonna frighten him, Raph. Put him on the phone for a minute and I'll talk to him."_

I was about to hand the phone over before he called me back.

"_Oh, and Raph?"_

"Yeah, bro?"

_"I er…well…I just want to say, I guess...as much as a pain in the ass you've been, you're still my little brother. I'm going to find you, Raph."_

I let a half smile fall on my lips. "I hope so, bro."

I hand the phone over to Mikey and he grabs it eagerly. Holding it tight to his ear, he starts his conversation, mostly nagging Leo to hurry up and come get us because he's hungry and frightened I'll eat him if they don't turn up with a Subway sandwich or somethin'. It amazes me how he can stay upbeat in even the darkest of situations. It really does.

* * *

If you read this far then thanks :) this is in a AU where all of the guys are human. If you keep reading it will make sense! I hope anyone who read enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

**19 HOURS, 54 MINUTES**

Mikey's still on the phone. He's curled in on himself a little bit an' leaned over ta the left so I can't snatch the phone from him, which is what I've been tryin' ta do. I know he's fifteen, but I don't think he understands. If that phone dies, so do we. An' he's wasting its juice. Plus I was supposed ta call the Embassy guy back. How am I supposed ta do that if Mike hogs the damn phone?

"Mike, this is stupid. Hang up, already!"

"You promise you're gonna come get us, Leo?" That's the sixteenth time Mike's said that, and I know Leo's probably said yes to every damn one of 'em. And, knowin' Leo, he ain't gonna be the one to hang up the phone either, not whilst our youngest brother needs him, but he can't keep looking for us while babysittin' Mike.

"But do you proper promise, Leo?"

My hand comes up to pinch the bridge of my nose and I wince to find it swollen. Carefully I place it back down by my side and close my eyes. That's when I tense when something begins crawling over the back of my hand with long spindly legs. I daren't look down to see it, no, scratch that, I _can't_ look down to see it! I _hate_ bugs, and what's crawling on me definitely ain't no snake. I'm breathin' hard. Trapped in a box with my worst nightmare crawlin' on me and Mike's on the damn phone!

I swallow hard and try to remain still as I count the legs. My arms fill with goose-bumps and as it begins to move further up my forearm I count eight. Eight legs. I suck in a heavy breath and now it's starting to hurt to bring them in.

"But do you promise that your promise, Leo? And you can't hold your fingers on this one-"

"Mike." I whisper and the thing on my arm stops. I don't know what the fuck it is, but I've seen those animal documentary programmes. These types of things can feel the vibrations, right? That's how they spot their dinner. So every time I speak this things listenin' to the ground beneath it moving, right? Which means that it knows it's standing on somethin' livin', right? Which means it's gonna-"

"Raph, shhhhhhh! I'm tryin' to talk to Leo."

I have never felt so pissed off with Mike in my life. The thing on my arm's started movin' again, and it's finally made its way up to my elbow.

"Mike," it stops again, and I hold back the sick in my gut just barely. "Mikey, please, just look at me for a sec."

He must have realised something was wrong because he uncurled himself and turned to me. I can't hear Leo on the phone, but Mike's got an eyebrow raised under the screen of the phone. His face is dirty, covered in mud and crusted blood to the point where I can't see his freckles, and his blond hair hangs grey just above his blue eyes.

Opening my eyes, I hold down the quiver I know is in my voice and try to sound as rational as possible when dealing with Mikey. "Mike, there's somethin' on me. I need ya ta take a look at it, kay?"

"Me-"

"You're the one with the phone, right? I can't reach down for the torch without- oh fuck! It's moving again."

I want to shiver. It came as an itch from where the animal had scratched its legs across me like small infectious needles, and then as the thing had made it to the sensitive flesh of my inner elbow it had grown into a tremblin' desire. I know I shouldn't, and whatever's on me in this freaky place could be venomous so I really don't wanna be movin' right now, but boy do I want to.

Mike frowns harder before he pulls the phone away from his ear an' shines that white light down across me. For the first time in a long time I see my mucky red shirt with the rolled up sleeves and the battered blue jeans I'd swiped from Don before we left…wonder if he's noticed 'em missin' yet. Then my attention is snapped to something completely different and I let out a noise so much like a whimper it's not even funny.

The scorpion's sat on my arm like its sunbathin', or darkbathin', or whatever. It's a mucky yellow in colour and there's these stupid stripes down its back like its tryin' to intimidate a race car with its 'go faster' stripes. Eight legs stand still and it raises its tail higher, threatening me. The bastard things no bigger than eight centimetres, an' it's threatenin' me! Bastard scorpion.

I don't know if Mike's still breathing. He's been still for that long…

"Raph…bro, don't move."

"Oh, gee, thanks Mike, because, yanno, I was thinking about going for a run with this little bloodsucker strapped to my arm!"

Mikey's eyes stay locked on the scorpion and he doesn't even register my sarcasm. It's like he's hypnotised, I swear.

"Don't be stupid, Raph. Scorpions don't suck blood, they inject venom."

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Did it?"

"No."

"Then no."

If I could have face-palmed right then and there I think I would have done. Or better yet, under different circumstances I could shake off this little shit and punch Mike for actin' like such a moron.

"Just get it off me, will ya? Preferably without it injectin' poison inta me."

"They inject venom, not poison-"

"It's the same bastard difference, Mike! Now get it offa me already!"

His nose wrinkles and I know he's tryin' ta think hard. I dunno if the pressure's eatin' at him or what because since we've been in here I've made sure that I took every call. I talked to the Embassy and I talked to the terrorists. Mike never heard from them, I made sure of it. So for him to have to take charge all of a sudden…I think it's frightenin' for both of us. He places the phone back to his ear and the light fades off the scorpion.

"Hey, Leo, um…we have another problem."

Of course! Leo! Carefully, so as not to upset my newfound lodger, I hold my other hand out for the phone. Mike's hesitant in passing it over, but he does it all the same. The cold metal's in my hand and I waste no time in placing it against my sticky ear.

"…_what other problem? Hello? Hello? Mike, you the-"_

"No, it's Raph. Listen, Leo, I got another problem."

He huffs on the other end of the phone and there's the sound of rattling papers. "_When don't you have a problem? I think I have a whole list-"_

"Ha ha, you're very funny, Leo, but this is serious."

The shuffling of paper stops and my lodger has begun moving again. I stagger for a breath and feel Mike reach down blindly between us to gather up the torch with the dying batteries. He flicks it on and off twice without it workin', and now he's batting it against his palm. Desperate to get it workin' by brutal force.

"_Okay, go._"

That's all the instruction I need. "There's a scorpion on my arm."

For a moment he's silent, and I wonder if he's taking me seriously for a second before there's the sound of something scratching close and I can hear him biting off a pen lid. I guess he kept the lid in his mouth because the next time he spoke he sounded like he had a swollen tongue or somethin'.

"_How big?" _

Mike finally got the torch workin' and hovered it over my lodger like an interrogation light. The scorpion became paralysed again and its tail was raised high. I give it a quick fleeting glance before I pull my eyes away. Bugs and everythin' related really are disgustin'!

"Seven or eight centimetres."

"_What colour?"_

"Browny-yellow."

"_How many stripes?"_

"Too many."

"_How big are the pincers?"_

"Erm…" I gave it another glance and its black eyes seemed to stare up at me. "Pretty big. 'Bout the size of its head."

Leo doesn't speak for a second and it seems to drag on for hours. _"Okay, Raph listen very carefully. Whatever you do, don't get stung, okay?"_

"How exactly do I stop it from stinging me? It's sat on me, Leo! Just taking a damn nap-"

"_Don't shout."_ His voice was calm and it irritated me. He wouldn't be staying calm if he was in this situation. _"Scorpions can sense vibrations. What I need you to do is take a picture of the scorpion and send it to Donny. Give it half a minute and then call him. Understand?"_

"You want me to hang up?"

"_I need you to. Donny will know what species we're looking at here. I'll send him this information so that when you ring him things go smoothly, okay? Just make sure he gets that picture, Raph."_

"What good is a bastard picture?"

"_We'll need to know which anti-venom to bring when we come get you out." _

He let it slip then and there. They were planning to bring an anti-venom…so he was expecting for one of us to get bit. I think he realised his mistake because no sooner had I inhaled a deep breath than he was backtracking.

"_It's just a precaution, Raph. Better to have it and not need it then to need it and not have it, right?"_

I'm gritting my teeth, trying to stay calm. "Better make sure Donny gets that picture then, huh? Talk to you later, Leo."

I hung up. I don't care what Leo thinks or says or believes, there's a bastard scorpion on my arm and his best advice is don't get stung? Some brother. Mike's still shining the light down on the little lodger and it takes me all my strength to shuffle round without upsetting him so I can snap his picture. Mike's torch helped, but he couldn't have been further away from me if he tried. His back is literally pressed up against the wall as if he's afraid the little parasite will switch targets.

I took the picture and sent it to Don straight away. Then came the wait of thirty seconds. A longer thirty seconds I've never experienced before in my life. The little lodger stayed still under the glare of the torch…then the batteries died.

My brain switched into overdrive as the thing started its expedition up my arm again. It's little legs _scurried_ across me. They didn't fucking walk, they _scurried_!

"Mike, turn the torch on. Turn it on now, Mike! Get it workin'!"

"I can't!" He's banging the torch against his palm again and swivelling the end to tighten it. "Raph, it won't work-"

"Just get the fuckin' thing working, Mike!"

It's finally reached the top of my arm and I can feel my shirt move as it scratches against the fabric. I feel sick.

The torch came back on after Mike smacked it against the wood. Good thing it's plastic cuz if that was glass it would have shattered all over him. Little idiot. Not that I'm complainin', mind. The torch is on and the scorpion's frozen on my shoulder. I pushed my face as far away from it as I possibly could, but that really isn't far when your head and shoulders are still attached.

Its eyes are fuckin' huge. For a small bug-like thing, it really is freaky. It snapped its claws at me and its back leg twitched. I couldn't take my eyes off the little sucker.

The phone vibrated and both me and the scorpion flinched. I never took my eyes off the scorpion as I raised the phone to my ear apprehensively and slowly. There's only one person that ever contacts us since the two way call option of the phone has been disconnected and tampered with, and I hate them so much. Mikey gulped, and I know he knows as well as I do. I clicked the answer button with numb fingers, and immediately the thick accent was being swallowed down the phone.

"_American, you get money?"_

"No, no I don't got fucking money!" I'm snarling, and the scorpion twitches again, its tail raising higher.

"_Why you not get money! Time almost up!_

"What the fuck do you want me to do, huh? America doesn't negotiate with terrorists!"

There's laughter down the end of the phone. Abrasive and cocky and joyful. It makes my stomach twist more than the scorpion watching me take the phone call.

"_You think we terrorists? That what they call us?"_

"That's generally what the whole world calls bastards like you!"

"_Ah, I see. You scared, terrified, so they call us terrorists." _The laugh that follows is sour. "_Stupid Americans!"_

"Fuck you."

"_No, fuck you! We know America pay out soldiers. You call Embassy. Six million or we leave you rot in box!"_

"Soldiers…? What soldiers? We're fucking tourists!"

"_No! Lies!"_

I'm panicking. My chest is heaving. Mike's waiting with those big wide eyes of his and the scorpion's tail is waving back and forth. "No, you've got the wrong people! We're not soldiers, we're tourists! Me and my friends and my brother are just bastard tourists!"

"_Lies! American lies! Embassy get one hour to give money, then we start to chop pieces from friends of 'tourist'. Pah!" _

There was the sound of spitting down the connection and my heart missed a beat. Six of us came out here. Me, my four friends, one of which I know is already dead, and Mike. Mike…he's not even supposed ta be here. He's supposed to be back in New York, back in school. I should never have let him come.

"No! No, no, look, I'm gunna call the Embasy again right now, okay? I'm gonna do it!"

The connection failed. Now I have a choice about who to call first. I can call Donny, and figure out if this scorpion is safe to squash, or I can call the Embassy guy, and try and save one of my friend's lives. I made my choice.

Mike watched me punch in the numbers, banging the torch when it flickered to keep it working. I didn't have to wait long to get through.

"_Raphael, I thought I told you to call me back after ten minutes? What is going on?"_

The Embassy guy seems shriller than I remember. Ignoring the scorpion on my shoulder, I pool out the information.

"The terrorist rang. He's got my friend's and he's gonna start…" I stop and glance over to Mike. He's watching with those big blue eyes of his and I can't bring it in me to spread more fear through him. "He's gonna do somethin' bad if ya don't give 'em the money. They've already killed Shauna. You can't let the others die!"

"_Raphael, calm down. These are empty thre-"_

"Don't you dare tell me these are empty threats!" I'm seething. My blood's pumpin' so much and I can feel the rage build up. "One of my friends is dead an' me and Mikey are still here in this bastard crate! Don't you sit there in that air conditioned office on that bastard computer tellin' me these are empty threats! Don't you bastard dare!"

"_Raphael, you are not thinking straight. Listen, we are closer to obtaining you than previously. Now, think for a moment. If the terrorists were to kill all of their hostages they would have no high ground to stand upon. They have to keep the hostages alive for there to be an implication of terror. By telling you what they are going to do they ignite the fear factor. This is what they want you to do. They want you to become afraid and desperate. It's the reaction they want. What I need you to do is stay calm, okay? Can you do that for me, Raphael?"_

I stay quiet for a long time. I'm not sure what to say to him, to this guy on the end of the phone who thinks everythin's gonna be fine when I know it aint. But I know he's right. I need to stay calm, not for this Embassy guy or my family, or to spite these bastard terrorists…I need to do it for Mike. I can't lose my rag now. Not after twenty hours of holdin' on and holdin' it in.

"What did the guy in Africa say?"

He's sucking in a deep breath on the end of the phone and I immediately prepare for the worst.

"_He's sending out parties to all of the normal locations where terrorist activities are known to take place. So far we've narrowed your location down to one of three positions. We'll be there soon, Raphael. Don't worry."_

He's lying again. I'm unnerved because of the way he said that speech in such a neutral voice, as if it's been repeated again and again with such a lack of emotion. I sniff hard and swallow back the scent of sand and sweat. "Do you always lie?"

"_Excuse me?"_

"Do you always lie? Is it a factor you need for the job or are you just a born liar?"

"_Raphael, I assure you-"_

"No, I assure _you_, you're a bastard liar."

He stays quiet and the scorpion has started moving again. It's no longer numbed by the light, and I hold my breath as it starts to tread across my neck before it heads under my shirt. I think it was looking for some place dark and moist, and I know I've been sweatin' like crazy, so beneath my shirt must be like heaven for the little creep. I shiver as it makes its way down south and stops just above my naval. Mike goes to reach his hand out, but I stop him and shake my head. The last thing I want is him getting stung.

"_Raphael, who else have you contacted?"_

So he finally clocks on. I suppose it's better late than never. "It doesn't matter. I know you're fucking lying to me, so how about you try tellin' the truth for a change."

"_Are you behind the rogue soldiers tearing through the North of Africa? Raphael, this is extremely serious!"_

I smile up at the lid of my coffin, prepared to play the liars game. "How can I be behind anythin'? I'm stuck in a box however many feet underground while some cunt on the phone feeds me lies."

"_Raphael, this is a serious offence! The rogue soldiers are delivering bad press to the media and public. It is essential that if you know anything about any of this that you call all of their operations off imediatel-"_

"Oh will you shut the fuck up? Why does it always have to be about the bastard media? So what if people hear what America is and isn't prepared to do for the lives of its people-"

"_It's not that simple, Raphael! It's never that simple." _

"All I've heard since I first got in contact with you is to watch what I do and make sure I'm polite and calm and have no contact with the media of any kind. What, are you afraid that this becomes public news?" I laugh bitterly and my gut lurches upwards. The scorpion stops moving and I recognise my mistake instantly.

My shirt raises ever so slightly before something solid and sharp strikes down into my stomach so fast and rapid I barely have time to take in a breath and prepare for it. The scorpion's sting hits me in the gut and the pain shoots through me like lucid fire. I drop the phone and the scream is from my lips before I even register that my mouth's open.

I went to curl in on myself before Mike pushed my shoulders down with such force it surprised me. The torch is still in his hands and he watches as the stinger rears back with my shirt, prepared to take another snatch at disabling me before Mikey slams the torch down across both the scorpions back and my gut.

There's a sick splattering noise and I shove Mike away from me hard. He hits the side of the crate and the torch falls from his hands, but thankfully it stays on. It rolls towards me, and I grit my teeth and seethe against the pain. It's unbearable! Like a hot needle slicing through my veins as it makes its way through my body. I lift my shirt to find the scorpion dead against my flesh and I throw it away from me and towards the back of the crate. A sigh of relief almost escapes me before the pain has me doubling over again and I spy the black bruise with fear. Now I _have_ to ring Donny. If that thing was lethal, then I'm in deep shit.

"What the hell, Raph!?" Mike's rubbing the back of his head and glaring at me, but I can't answer. I curl up as far as I can, which isn't far at all, and shake my head. I think he gets my gist because he reaches over me for the phone and suddenly he's taking charge while I try to control the inferno in my gut.

His fingers move over the phone and the Embassy guy's voice breaks through the silence. The phone's on loudspeaker now, but Mike still holds onto it.

"Hello? My name is Michelangelo Hamato-"

"_Michelangelo, what happened to Raphael?"_

The Embassy guy's voice is strict and stern, and Mike rises to the challenge. "Look, I'm sorry but we're really gonna have to call you back."

He hung up. I would have smiled at him but I was too busy clutching my gut and shuttin' my eyes tight to will away the pain. Mike punches in some numbers, pauses for a moment and whispers a small jingle to himself, then finishes off the rest of the number in the phone. The phone rings once before it's picked up.

"_Raph-"_

"No bro, it's Mikey. Listen-"

"_Mikey, I need you to listen to me and listen carefully. The scorpion Raph sent a picture of is called the Deathstalker Scorpion. It's the most venomous scorpion in the world. Whatever happens, don't aggravate it! These things are extremely aggressive in confined spaces."_

Mike pales at the name and he turned whiter as Don continued. I knew it was a mistake to let him take the phone from me. Reaching over with one hand still holding onto my stomach, I took the phone from his numb fingers and turned off the loud speaker, holding it close to my ear.

"Too late, Donny-boy." It hurt's to do anything but breathe, and I know Mike's trembling beside me, so smilin' is impossible.

Donny inhales deeply and sharply. There's the sound of vigorous typing and then he's back. "_Raph, that's not…that's not good."_

"You're tellin' me. Little bastard stung me right in the stomach-"

"_Raph, did you not hear what I told Mikey? These things are highly venomous."_

"Yeah, Don, I heard ya." I bit back. I don't mean to snap, but damnit it hurts so God damn much! He could at least humour me. Shakin' my head, I let out a deep sigh. "Sorry, Don. Just in a lot of pain over here."

"_Right_…"

He's quiet, and I wonder if he knows what to say. After a minute of silence I decide to pick up the dropped conversation ball.

"What's this thing gonna do to me, Donny?"

"_Well, the Deathstalker scorpion is a small breed known for its sting and its high toxin levels that are high in -"_

"Donny, I need ta be able to understand what you're sayin'. Please, gimme it in English."

He huffs on the end of the line before he starts up again, and I know he's just as scared as Mikey. But I can't afford for Donny to break on me. I need him to stay strong.

"_This thing has sent a powerful venom through your body. You're going to experience unquenchable pain, perhaps convulsions and paralysis and fatigue. Deaths have been heard of, but they all require some form of heart or lung difficulties. Thankfully you don't have any heart or respiratory problems like…"_

He trails off and I know what he was going to say. Mikey had suffered problems since he was little, but in time we'd all grown up knowing how to deal with the situation. This shook things up a bit.

I glance across to Mikey and see him look about with horrified eyes. I know he can't hear Donny, so he doesn't know that this thing can kill, and it's important that he doesn't know. Right now he's afraid because of me, because of what I'm allowing him to see, but the pain is just too much for me to hide it right now.

I pull the phone away from my ear and take a moment to wipe the sweat out of my eyes. My body feels like it's on fire even though I'm freezing, and I know it's just me because Mike's as dry as a bone. "Mikey. Mikey, listen to me. That thing wasn't in here all those hours ago. It must have burrowed in. I need yer to find the crack, Mike. Find it and don't touch it. Just let me know where it is, okay?"

He nods quietly and picks up the torch. He pulls himself away from the wall and begins his search as I turn my attention back on Don. "Right, we're lookin' for the hole now-"

"_Good, I'll let Leo know what type of antitoxin you'll be needing. Has the Embassy said anything?"_

I laugh hollowly and I don't think he takes it the right way.

"_Raph, they haven't stopped looking, have they? They're not allowed to do that, you know? By law, they have to-"_

"They haven't stopped lookin', Don. They're just more concerned about their public appearance than actually findin' us."

"_I'm sure that's not the case. You probably just misheard them." _

I'm in no fit state to argue, so I humour him. "Maybe…"

"Raph, I think I've found it!"

Mike points to behind me. I turn slowly, in agony, and when I see the deep black crack I know he's probably right. Now all we have to do is border it up somehow to prevent any more nasty surprises getting in.

"Don, I'm gonna have to call ya back."

"_Right. Just take it easy, Raph. I promise we'll be there soon."_

"Yeah, see ya soon, Don."

I hung up and turned my attention to the deep crack in the wood. It was behind me, which explains how the scorpion had managed to make its way to me first before it got to Mike. A blessing in disguise, I suppose, even if it kills like-

"How are we gonna block it?"

Mike sounds scared so I told him not to worry about it and began to undue the buttons of my shirt, thankful for the white t-shirt beneath. It was a struggle to rip it off of my shoulders, and by the end of the small task I was fighting for every breath. I jammed the sweat-drenched shirt into the hole, making sure every crack was filled.

Mikey looks to me sceptically as I fall back and return to my curled up position. "You sure that's gonna hold?"

"Mike…" I stagger for the breath to fill the space and force myself to smile at him. "That thing was eight centimetres big, tops. Unless there's twenty of the little bastards they're not pushing that out."

He nods but looks unsatisfied. My skin feels cold as the sweat dries on my arms and face only to be overtook by more of it. I closed my eyes for half a heartbeat. That little shit really took it outta me. I've never felt so much agony before, and hopefully, if I live through this, I never will again. My breath came as a shudder and I closed my eyes tighter. It's weird. Sometimes closing your eyes and gritting your teeth tight can make the pain seem less painful. I guess it's because your body feels like it's doing something to fight the agony even if you know you're really not. But then again, sometimes closing your eyes makes everything worse because you know your body can do nothing to stop what's hurting. Closing my eyes did the latter for me, but I just couldn't find the energy to open them again.

Mikey's shaking me roughly, and I think he's saying something, but I can't make it out. He wipes back my hair and his hands are so warm that when he pulls them away I only then realise that I'm _so_ cold. He's returned to shaking me again and I know he needs me, but I just want to sleep. Just for a little while. Then I'll get up. I promise, just a couple of minutes, then I'll get up…

I promise…


	3. Chapter 3

**27 HOURS, 29 MINUTES**

"My name is-is…"

There's the sound of a deep breath as I come too, still doubled over in a helpless position and tryin' ta will away the pain. God, it hurts. I can't even open my eyes, and damn is it _cold_! It's freezing! Beside me I can hear Mike's teeth chattering, an' as he speaks there's a tremble there. I hope that's from the cold. I don't wanna think of why else Mike might be tremblin'.

He starts over with whoever he's talkin' to, and I wish I could open my eyes ter see, but it's like they're glued shut.

"My name is Michelangelo Hamato," his voice breaks and it sounds like he's chocking back a mouthful of spit. I tense to hear it, because now I know Mike's not tremblin' from the cold. He's scared.

"Me and my brother, Raphael Hamato, have been captured by terrorists off the North of Africa." He takes a long time to pause, and I wonder what he's doing. "My brother's sick, and we're going to die here, in this crate, unless America gives the terrorists who took us the money they want. But America won't…they won't…"

He's openly crying.

It makes me cringe and regret every time I've smacked him upside the head or punched his shoulder and given him a dead leg. He's still only a kid…sometimes I forget. I'm the idiot brother, ya see. Leo's oldest; military orientated and prestigious son, boy after me dad's own heart. Me and Donny are twins. He got the brains and the book smarts, got into a good college and is on his way to working for some A-grade tech company, and me…sometimes I question if I got anythin' at all. I'm always screwin' up. Always fuckin' up. Always hurtin' people around me…guess that's why I spend so long travellin'. I never want to be at home, because it hurts to see how much I fucked up. I can see it in my dad's eyes every time he looks at me.

They're always thick and glossy, my dad's eyes…always burdened with shame when he looks at me.

"I'm sending this message-"

What did he just say? A message? As in he's recording himself and sending it out to the media?

"In the hopes that somebody, somewhere will care enough to help us-"

Crap.

I fight to open my eyes. Gritting my teeth, the crust along the base of my eyelids lifts and I gaze blearily outwards. Everything's fuzzy for a moment, but after a second it clears up.

Mike's holding the torch upwards in one hand, almost as if he were tellin' a ghost story, and the phone camera's pointed at him with the other. The tears are on his face, leaving trails in the dirt and blood, but I can't find the energy in me to do anything other than sit there and stare. Heck, just breathin' is a challenge I'm struggling to conquer.

"Please, please ya gotta help us!" Another sob escapes. "Please!"

Turning the camera around, I don't think he noticed I was awake. He saved the video, his fingers flying over that little phone that must be almost dead by now, and yelped when he turned to see I was awake. Hand clutched tight to his chest, he swept the tears away from his cheeks as if he'd just been insulted.

"Oh, you finally woke up. Good of you."

What the…? Is he being sarcy? He's not smiling, more he's glowering at me with those blue eyes that should do nothin' but smile. I raise my head, push my elbow under me to keep me upright as far as I can without hitting the top of the crate, and latch my hands about my stomach. I'm not brave enough to look at the state of my gut. If it's as bad as it feels, it may be nothing but black bruises by now.

"Mikey, what are you doing?" The words are a rasp on my tongue. I blink to hear it, and glance down at my hands. "How long have I been out?"

He stops what he's doing and slinks further to the side. Away from me.

"'Bout eight hours." He mumbles, still wiping away those tears that shouldn't be there. "I couldn't wake you up…"

"Wake me up?" It feels like I have a jigsaw puzzle that's missing a few pieces. I can't quite see the picture as clearly as I'd like too.

He nods, staring up at the top of the box. "When they rang, I tried to get you up…when I couldn't do it I tried to explain to them, but they wouldn't listen…" another tear, this one wiped away with such ferocity it made me wince.

I latch onto what he's saying and my world shatters slightly. The terrorists, I was supposed to take the call in an hour after ringing the embassy. I fell asleep for _eight hours_! How many calls has there been since then? Did Mike take them all? Is that why he's upset?

"You scared me, Raph."

It's a whisper I almost don't catch. He's not looking at me and the light of the torch keeps flickering. I shiver, trying to keep focused, and Mike coughs into his hand.

"Mike…" I pause. What am I supposed to say? I'm sorry for gettin' stung and falling unconscious? Sorry I brought you on the trip in the first place?Sorry I fucked up, again, and now I think I've gotten us both killed?

Turns out, I didn't have to say any of those things.

Mike turns to me, a faint smile on his cracked, bloody lips, and hands me the phone. He sniffles when I take it, but brushes it away with a sigh of relief when he's no longer holdin' it. I think he's glad not to have the responsibility of it, yanno? Like it's a weight off his shoulders.

"The Embassy guy rang twice to say they caught one of the terrorists and he's in interrogation."

The laugh burst from my lips like a bark. It hurt my throat and caused me to jerk forwards, which caused agony in my gut, but it was worth it. "They got 'em? For real?"

Mike's not smiling at me. "Yeah, they got him. The terrorist rang after that. Right after the Embassy guy."

I stopped. My laughter died.

"They rang you?"

He shrugs at me, blue eyes lost. "I couldn't wake you up."

Fuck. I feel like such a jerk for letting those bastards talk to my brother. "Mikey-"

"'M sorry, Raph. 'M real sorry!" His voice cracks again and he's not looking at me, almost as if he can't. The tears are back, more plentiful than before, and he closes his eyes tight and brings his hands up to try and stop them.

"'M sorry!" he repeats, staggering for a breath as much as me. "I tried to follow the instructions! I sent off the messages and tried to be strong like you was but I just couldn't stop them!"

My heart catches in the back of my throat. I forget to breathe for a moment, and when I remember, my situation collapses on my shoulders like a giant wave.

"Mike, what happened? What did they tell you?"

He shakes his head. "They didn't say anything. All they asked for was the money, and when I said I couldn't get it they turned on me. They were hissing but I didn't know the language, Raph."

"What did they tell you, Mikey?" I'm trying to stay calm and patient, but he's not making this easy. Not nine hours ago he was holding up fine, what could they have said that's turned him into such an incredible wreck?

"They didn't say anything'-"

"Then what're ya cryin' for?!"

"There was bullets, Raph!" He shouts, his chest heaving so hard I thought it might burst like a balloon. As quick as his outburst came it was gone. "They didn't say anythin'. They just… they shot 'em…"

The silence is thick between us. This time there are no words to cover the gap, but I think we'd both welcome them. Mike's rubbing away the last of those tears, but after being in this dry crate for so long, I don't think I have any left. My friends, all of the ones the Embassy guy promised me would be safe as ransom, are dead. All of them. All of them but us. And if they killed them so easily, why wouldn't they do the same to me and Mike?

Mike keeps telling me that he's sorry, that he should have thought of a way to lie and that he hopes I don't hate him. I just stare at the top of the box in silence. They're gone. All of them. Killed in cold blood because someone out there wanted a million dollars. Each of them was worth way more than that. They were lives, for Pete's sake! Real people! Not just printed people on paper!

There's a fierce pang in my gut from the venom and I lurch forwards subconsciously. Freezing in that uncomfortable position, I hold my breath until my face turns red and bite my tongue. I taste blood, but the pain is so much worse that my mouth feels numb compared to it. Finally, after sixteen long, agonising seconds, it liquefies and I can slowly relax my muscles. Relaxing, the sharp inhale of breath comes to me and my own tears crinkle at the corners of my eyes. Bastard. Can't let them fall, not with Mike watchin'.

I let my head drop, expecting it to catch the wood and crack, but instead it catches something soft. Something I didn't notice before. I lift my head and glance down to spy Mikey's jacket. The zips are tucked in and it's been folded so the fluffy inner wool is facing outwards. I frown down at it, about to ask what he's done that for, but before I can he explains.

"You were thrashing a lot…" My eyes catch his and he holds my stare, unflinching, before the momentum becomes too much and he glances down. "It was scary. You kept smashin' your head and tossing and turning. I didn't want you to wake up with a…a, yanno," he taps his head to get the word to come to him, "a headache."

I smile, reaching for the fabric. "Thanks Mike, but it's freezing. Here," I pull the jacket away and hand it to him.

He holds it in his hands with a frown, as if he's confused as to why I've given him it back. Then he tries pushing it back to me. "No, I want you to use it. You're sick."

"I've been stung by a scorpion." I won't admit being stung is a weakness. Yes, it aches like I'm walking through a pit of burning coals. Yes, it kills every time I take a breath and I can barely move without wanting to scream, but no, it's not a weakness. The dizzy spells and the wobbly vision and the slight sickness are nothing my body can't defeat. "I'm not sick, Mike. And besides, I'm up now. I promise, no more thrashing while I'm awake." He looks apprehensive, and as the only big brother present it's kinda my job to make sure he's okay. "Put your jacket on, Mike. You catch a cold and that's another problem on our list."

He pauses as if thinking, but then decides I'm right. Wrinkling his nose, he looks down at the large jacket and then back to my shirt in the wall.

"What about you? You're gonna get cold too."

I shrug. I _am_ cold. Freezing even. But Mike needs that jacket more than me. The last thing I want is for him to catch pneumonia in his last hours.

"I'm a big boy, Mike. I'll manage."

With an uncertain look and a puppy-dog pout, he mutters an "oh" and slinks down to the wood. Instead of throwing the jacket around his shoulders, he covers his body like it's a blanket. He faces me, closes his eyes, and places his head against the cold wood. Guess he wants to go to sleep. I can't blame him. After hearing people being murdered it's bound to take some of the fight outta ya. Guess I'm on phone duty for now.

Three minutes of silence later and Mike shuffles slightly closer. I don't think he knows that I've noticed, but I have. He's slowly slinking closer. He peeks an eye open a slither, catches my scowl, and shuts them with a slight "eep!"

Sighing aloud, I close my eyes. "What's wrong witcha now, Mike?"

He grumbles something, scoots even closer, and pushes his jacket further up over his shoulders. "Can't get comfy," he mumbles.

"Whaddya want me to do about it?"

He shrugs. Then, carefully, as if I'm some kind of wild animal that's gonna bite him, he reaches out to me and grabs my arm. He moves it away from my side, and I peek an eye open to watch the little idiot. With my arm extended outwards, he slinks to my side, careful of my gut, and uses my shoulder and upper torso as a pillow.

I don't know when I took up the designated role of mattress or pillow, but Mike cuddled in closer and let out one of them content sighs. After everything we've been through, I don't think I have the heart to shift him. I mean, I did cause this. All of it. And he is here because of me. The least I can do is let him use me as an inflatable cushion for the night. But still...

"Hey, Mike."

He tenses, afraid I'm gonna push him away. "Yeah?" he asks, voice full of nerves.

I smile, bringing my other arm up to rest my head on as I hold onto his shoulder with my numb arm, which his head is laid on. I close my eyes, phone in hand incase it vibrates and I have ta answer it. "You tell anyone about this an' you're dead, got it?"

He smiles, all the tears gone. "Got it."

I'm not sure how long we stayed like that for, but it felt like hours. The torch finally gave out an' I don't think there's any way we're gonna get it workin' again. Mike's asleep. Has been for a while. He keeps snoring, like some kind of bull elephant. Heh, he always was a deep sleeper.

Carefully, making sure he won't wake up, I pulled my arm from behind my head. The phone's there, in my hand, almost dead. Just like us. The screen barely even lights up any more. Mike's message is on there, an' I can't bring myself to play it. So instead I open the keypad again and start punchin' in those familiar numbers.

The phone rings once. Then it picks up.

"_Hello? Raphael, my son, are you there?"_

I can't speak. The words are there, right on the tip of my tongue, but I can't say 'em. I spill somethin' out, sort of a splutter. The pain of the scorpion hurts, the pain of lettin' Mike down hurts, but the tone of voice that came next, the deep sigh that my father so often saves for me and my mistakes, that killed me.

"_Oh, my son, please, speak to me. Tell me that you and Michelangelo are safe… you are coming back to me_?"

My fingers clench around Mikey's shoulder and pull him closer. He's drooling on my shirt, his face buried beneath the jacket to hide from the darkness, and I can't answer.

"_Raphael, please spea-"_

"I'm sorry." I say the words so fast and without pause that I can't even make sense of them. My teeth are gritted tight against some invisible monster, and I can hear him taking in that deep, staggering breath. I've heard that so many times before… When the police first brought me home, when he caught me sneaking out at night, whenever me and Leo started fightin', when I got kicked outta school, whenever I left home. He was always hurtin' 'cause of me.

When we were still kids pretending to be grown-ups, Leo once said to me that I was hurting him. I didn't understand what he meant until a few years ago when Donny said the same thing to me before I left for Spain. I mean, I've never physically laid a finger on my father. I wouldn't damn well dare! But I was still hurtin' him.

"_Raphael, there is nothing to apologise for."_

He's calm, just like he always is. I hate it! You never know what he's thinkin' or feeling because there's always that blank wall up in place. It's the same with Leo. And I hate it in him, too!

"Yes, there is!"

I'm insisting, but I know he's brushing it off like the wind.

"_Raphael, you are my son, my second child and one of the few gifts I was blessed enough to receive in my time in this world. You have nothing to apologise for, and, no matter what you do or what you choose to do, I will always love you. You are my son, and there is nothing to apologise for."_

There's a knot in my stomach where the scorpion's venom is and my throat is so dry. Why does he have to do this? Why can't he just scold me and yell and scream and shout and get it all out in the open so we can deal with it before…before what? Before I die? Or before he passes on?

Shaking my head, I _have_ to prove my point. He has to understand if he's to forgive me before it's too late!

"There is! W-what about when I was thirteen, and you caught me joyridin'? Or the time I got kicked outta school? Or when I put Mike in the hospital by accident? You can't sit there and say I'm a perfect angel. You can't do it, so I'm taking the chance to say…to say…"

I can't say it a second time.

As I'm hopin' he catches my gist, there's a surprising sound down the end of the line. It's odd, something I don't here often, and when I do it's never been the result of something I've said. My father, Master Splinter, the tough man with the soft heart, is laughing. The only way of describing it is as somethin' unique. There's an edge to it, like a sharpened blade, but to be honest it really is something I love ta hear. I think all kids like ta hear their parents and peers laughing, even if they never admit to it. And it's the first time I think my dad has ever shared that laughter with me.

"_Raphael, you still have nothing to apologise for. As your oldest brother gave me pride, your twin gave me wisdom and your youngest brother gave me hope, you have given me adventure. Every hiccup we have had together, every bump in the road, they can all be plastered over and we can learn from the small scrapes left behind. You have made my life an adventure, Raphael. There was never a dull moment in our household, and there was never a dim face when you entered the room."_

"But…but…but I hurt you an'…an-"

"_Never, Raphael." _His voice is strong and the laughter's stopped.

"But I thought…whenever I left…"

That sigh again, the one that's only ever reserved for me and my mistakes. "_Raphael, I have yet to meet a decent parent who is happy to see a child leave the nest. To have you leave so often, to such faraway places, where I could not protect you…I think it may have frightened me. But on no occasion have you ever hurt me, my son. You never could." _

"But-"

"_How is Michelangelo? Hopefully you two are not causing the local wildlife any headaches. Heaven knows how our neighbour used to put up with you." _

He's chuckling, and I'm put at ease by it slightly. Is that what he's trying to do? Calm me down? 'Cause it's working.

I'm smilin' slightly, my apology almost forgotten. "Nah, the local wildlife already been on patrol and sorted us out. Mike's sleepin'. Again."

"_That boy always could sleep like a rock. Sometimes, I wonder if perhaps he would sleep through a storm." _

"His snorin's startin' ta sound like a storm. Heck, it's more than loud enough."

His laughter dies and that serious note comes back to his voice. "_Raphael, Donatello has informed me that you are…unwell. I could not follow the logistics of his explanation, but I think I was able to grasp that much."_

I laugh hollowly, my gut lurches, and I wince, biting my tongue to stop the wince escaping my lips. After it's calmed down a moment later, I manage to speak, putting through that fake laugh. "Yeah, that sounds like Donny."

"_So you are sick?" _

He's concerned, and now my gut is lurchin' for a whole different reason. Guilt.

"No, no. Just a bit of a bite from a bug. Y'know, cuz I don't like 'em they always have ta bug me first. Lucky Mike didn't get none of it, really."

"_Am I to understand that something has bitten you, but you are fine?"_

Stung by a scorpion, bleeding from my ear, face covered in crusted crimson and bruises covering me like splotched fake tan... I'm flat out lying. "Yup, I'm fine. Don's probably just…overreacting." I roll my eyes before I realise he can't see me. "Y'know how he gets sometimes. I mean, it's Donnie. Kid's got a knack for overreacting."

There's a beeping sound through the phone, and I know there's another call waiting. And since there's only one person who can ring in, I'm not looking forward ter havin' to take it.

"Master Splinter, I, er…I gotta go. There's a call I have ter take, so…"

"_Of course." _There's a long pause, and I was almost ready to hang up before he spoke again. _"Raphael… hurry home."_

There's the click of a button on the other side and the line goes dead. I'm not sure, and the more I think about it the less certain I am, but I could have sworn Master Splinter was about ready to cry just then. His voice was cracking a little towards the end, and there was that break for a gasp of air that people take when they can't suck their breaths in fast enough. Was Master Splinter cryin'? I dunno.

Pushin' it to the back of my mind, I answered the incoming call. It was who I expected it to be, and who I dreaded it being.

" 'Lo-"

"_Bastard! Why you no send video?! Hour up! Why video no send?!"_

They're angry. Hissing and spitting and enraged. It makes me sick to think this is what Mike was dealin' with while I was out. I stay silent for a minute, and they start seething in a tongue I don't understand. Some kind of language whole other language.

With my voice kept to a low growl to keep Mike asleep, I try and keep the bite out of it.

"This is the other bastard brother! The one that's gonna spit on your graves when he gets outta here!"

"_Pah," _they spit down the phone, "_fuck you! Bastard soldier no get out! Not if video no sent!"_

"I keep tellin' you! We're not soldiers! We're tourists, okay? Know what they are? They make up more than thirty percent of your stupid, mother-fucking economy, and you're trappin' them in bastard boxes!"

"_American send message!"_

It's an order.

"No!"

"_American send message!"_

Stronger this time, more assertive, they're tryin' ta scare me to get their message across.

"I said no! N-fucking-O! No!"

"_American, I no play game! Send message or friend die!"_

I can't help but laugh. It ain't joyful. Just hollow.

"My friends are already dead. You killed 'em all. You and the rest of your stupid fuckin' group."

For a minute he's stumped. He's quiet on the other end of the phone, and I can hear his sweaty breathin' as he panics and tries to figure out what to do.

"American, I no play game-"

"No, you know what, I won't play the game! I'm not gonna send off some message about my little brother to the whole wide world so they can see how scared he is. The Embassy has already caught one of your guys, and they're comin' ta fuck you up."

He's laughing. Why is he laughing? When you threaten people they're not supposed to laugh…what the hell's goin' on?

"_You stupid American. You think he with us? No, no, no, no. Your Embassy million miles away. They no help you! They never help you! They never help no American in 'terrorist' situation." _

"Then why are you doing this? If you know you won't get the money, why are you doing this? What's the point?"

"_Why not?"_

That's it. Two little words. That was my explanation. They do it because they can, because they think America is going to just roll over and take every bullet and bomb they throw their way. But I'm not in any position to say that won't happen. Hell, I'm buried in a box under the ground. Alive. Where the hell is my America now?

"_Thirty minutes, American. Send message or we come, shoot, and make our own message. Make choice." _

That was the last thing they said, then someone screamed, a parade of bullets marched over the connection, and they hung up.


End file.
